Anger Issues

by TylerRose.

  Thor went in, turning through the dining room to the House Master’s office.

  “Yes?” he asked from the doorway, impatient with the interruption of his evening.

  “Mally has asked to speak privately with you. She’s in your room.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” the House Master said. “She wouldn’t say. I know you know the internal pain and conflict she’s in. I know you have other abilities than what you show us here. What do you know about her condition? Can you heal her?”

  “I know more about her condition than you ever will. Whatever pain she shows, she’s carrying a hundred times more in both her head and her heart.”

  He walked out without answering the questions yet still leaving the House Master with something new to ponder. He went up the rear stairs to avoid having to extend greetings to late arrivals on his way through the Manor. His suite was near the front of the building. None of the rooms on the second floor had windows, so it didn’t really matter where on the floor rooms were. It was the size that was coveted. Suites were two rooms plus a bathroom.

  Code entered, he opened the door to see her sitting on the floor near his bedroom door. She looked up, eyes and mind blissfully blank. He stepped inside to close the door and sat in the armchair near it.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  “Now you’re here, I don’t know what I wanted to say,” she had to admit.

  “I’m sure it’ll come to you,” he said, reaching for a shoe to take them off.

  “Should I do that for you?” she asked.

  “Why would you? You’re one of the fuckable heads of cattle we consume for our carnal and homicidal appetites. You are not a body servant. If I want assistance undressing, I should send for one of the valets.”

  Maybe she should feel insulted, but he was right.

  “I wanted a simple, shot in the arm, over in ten seconds, death. I was not prepared for a slow choking. No one else here had even hinted at trying.”

  “Why not? You’ve been here how long?” he asked, the socks following the shoes to be tossed into the corner. “You’ve seen what is done here.”

  “No, not really. This is the first time I’ve been brought into the rooms of the Manor. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I had a rough few days with a headache and lost track of time. Sometimes the pain steals my time and I don’t know it. Sometimes weeks or months. I could be here a year and not know it.”

  “About two weeks, I think,” he said. “Ten days or so?”

  She only lifted her head in acknowledgement of the number.

  “There are about forty little tumors right now,” he continued, pulling his shirt out of his pants. “The size of an uncooked grain of rice. They are interfering with your long term memory, preventing short term memory conversion into long term memory. They’re making it hard for you to take on and hold new information.”

  “How do you know? Have you seen my records?” she asked.

  He sat back in the chair, regarded her. “I can see them inside your skull. I can feel their locations, like tiny, hot little shards of fire.”

  She stared at him, blinking as her brain sorted out the implications of his statements.

  “They are giving me low doses of different drugs. They’re really not doing anything. No one seems to understand that it always hurts. Every minute, to one degree or another. I learned to live with it. The low doses don’t take the edge off anything from my point of view.”

  “They are idiots,” he agreed.

  She could only nod, face growing hot and eyes tearing up as the one nearest her emotional center fired off. He waited for the adrenaline to wear off.

  “Why did you want to see me?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I thought you could help, I guess. Or end it for me.”

  “Come here.”

  She stood to walk it, lowered to her knees in front of him.

  “There are things you must understand,” he began. “In order for me to help you, you have to be fully prepared to lose everything you ever were. I know that who you are now is not who you used to be. I don’t think you even remember who you were anymore, do you? It’s not that I will heal you and you will be that person again. The process of healing you will completely wipe your slate clean. You might not remember things like how to read and write or how to tie your shoes. That I cannot predict with any certainty. What I can be sure of is the loss of every lifetime memory you have. All the good things from your childhood will be gone forever. Your mind will be an empty vessel. You won’t remember favorite songs, favorite books you’ve read. Family trips, suppers talking as a family. You aren’t nearly ready to lose all that and I know it.”

  “I could be,” she said quietly.

  “At some point. Maybe,” he denied.

  “I’d end up making new memories, wouldn’t I?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “If it means no more pain, I could do it,” she decided.

  “I tell you what. You think about it. Really think about the repercussions. We’ll give it a couple weeks and we’ll talk about it again. If I feel that you are in more immediate danger before then, I’ll step in. Deal?”

  “Okay. Thank you,” she said, and leaned against him not knowing what it was she wanted or needed.

  “I am not an affectionate man,” he said.

  “No, but you don’t threaten to punish me for things beyond my control. You have been kind enough and not manipulated me for your amusement or to satisfy a morbid curiosity about my condition. You don’t treat me like a science project.”

  Her scowl told him what she felt about that.

  “I think you’re the only one with any sincere compassion for my situation.”

  “What is it you want from this discussion?” he asked.

  She looked up to him and conflict melted from her eyes.

  “I don’t know, really. I feel this jumbled mess inside my head. When I look at you, all that goes away and my brain is calm. Nothing about you triggers anything negative. You don’t bait me to get a reaction like they do, say stupid things just to make me respond in anger.” She sighed hard. “I’m sure I’m not expressing myself well.”

  “You’re doing well enough,” he said. “I don’t care how outrageous it sounds in your head. Speak your real wish. I can’t do anything if you don’t ask.”

  “Healing me means I become someone new. Someone I don’t know. And I won’t remember any of this, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “Until I’m ready to do that, can you make them stop giving me meds? Make them stop everything and just leave me be?”

  “I am not the sole owner of the Manor, Mally. I am a Duke. The House Master and President both outrank me in that. They are the decision makers here.”

  She put her head on his knee, her head feeling heavy on her neck and needing relief from that.

  “Not the sole owner means you are an owner. There are many owners, aren’t there? The prison is a front for some other purpose.”

  “Were you ever tested for telepathic abilities?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t care. It makes sense. There has to be a group of owners or stockholders, like any big business. The men are referred to as members, not owners. A corporate President answers to someone. A Board of Directors. The Stockholders.”

  “All that is true. None of it changes the fact that I cannot pull you from the Manor just because I want to. I can only offer you an all or nothing solution and you said yourself you aren’t ready for it.”

  She wept again, quietly, and he let her. Another of the tumors had fired. There was no point in telling her not to cry. The words would trigger another release and only make it worse. He waited for the tears to stop so she could hear him again.

  “You know the conditions. I’ll know when you are ready. Meanwhile, I will ask if there is a procedure for pulling you out of General Population.”

  He reached over his shoulder for the bell pull.
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  “Can I stay here with you tonight?” she asked.

  “You don’t understand, Mally. I am not a kind man. My sex is brutal. You will leave here bruised. Probably bloodied to boot.”

  She looked up, and that conflict drained from her again. Her eyes were clarity personified.

  “But…That’s what I like.”

  Truth, simply stated.

  He stood, stepped away to remove the rest of his clothing and put his robe on. Sitting in the same chair, he put his telephone on the arm should he be needed somewhere.

  “Suck me and we’ll see what I’m inspired to do to you afterward.”

  She all but dove onto his cock, sucking down hard and at once. He gave the side of her face a smart slap that startled her into breaking suction, and cause her puss to pulse in instant arousal.

  “Gently,” he told her. “Not like you’re starving to death.”

  She began again with a looser mouth he enjoyed much more. A stiff length of leather appeared in his hand. More like a cane than a belt, he started swinging it down over her to strike her bottom and upper thighs. The tip bit painfully below her buttocks, now and then striking her exposed labia between her pressed together thighs.

  “Part your knees,” he said when he realized her legs were closed. “Open yourself to me.”

  She obeyed and the now and then strikes to closed labia instead wrapped farther to whip her open cleft. His cock in her mouth stopped her sound from passing out of her throat. Her arousal level soared as the anticipation of what more he might do to her built inside her mind.

  His phone rang, a sound of chiming bells.

  “Be very quiet,” he told her, but did not stop whipping her in his leisurely pace.

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Are you busy?” Odin asked.

  “Yes. I’m whipping a condemned prisoner while she sucks me. Later on, I may give her a near death experience. Why?”

  “The Immaculate’s shuttle crashed on the Devoid. Things are about to progress rather dramatically.”

  “Good. About fucking time. How’d you orchestrate that?” Thor asked.

  “I made both parties insist there be no teleportation allowed during negotiations and one party suggested the Devoid region as a neutral location. The Sanctarians did the rest on my command.”

  Thor laughed, the manipulation humorous beyond measure.

  “If she’s not living in a temple within a year, it won’t be my fault,” Odin said.

  “Yeah, well. She’s slipped that noose more than once,” Thor said. “I gotta go, unless you want to hear me cum down this cunt’s throat.”

  “How did I raise such an asshole?”

  “Like father, like son,” Thor replied, and hit the end button.

  He stopped Mally, gestured her to go to the bed. She bent over the end, showing him the dozens of red stripes he’d laid onto her backside. He enjoyed looking at her, thinking.

  The Devoid was a rock made almost entirely of the energizing crystal that was like the one under the crust of the planet Sistair. Voran III had another that stuck up like an iceberg and the Emperor’s palace was built around it. The Immaculate fed from that energy through her closest lover the man known throughout the Congress only as the Dragon.

  At long last, true immortality was a light at the end of the tunnel. The thought invigorated Thor. He did to Mally everything he’d been wanting to do to the bitch the Immaculate.

  “This is what it means to be my cunt,” he told Mally when he’d finally spent all his aggression and she was exhausted and battered. “If you want me to fix your brain, then you will have to be mine. This is what you get when you are mine. What do you say to that?”

  A pause while she decided what to say.

  “Is it too soon to say I love you?” she asked, turning over and taking his arm with her to hold and be held.

  She fell asleep at once.

  For the first time in his life, Thor was disarmed. He was a fearsome demigod in the making, a minor Eminent telepath on his way to eternal life with a goddess about to realize herself. He was respected by many for his abilities, feared by many others for those same abilities. Here was this young woman, a fraction of a percentage of his age, entirely unafraid of him and ignoring his every warning, seeing only the peace he could give her.

  He would look into the matter and see what license he could take without having to pay for the privilege.

  Mally woke alone in the bed, a hand gently patting her leg.

  “You have to go back to your own room now,” the escort told her when she lifted her head.

  She went without a word, a meal arriving within minutes. Then instructions popped up onto the screen. She was to do exercises and rest. Eventually she went to the doctor’s office for a scan of her head. Back to her room to rest again. The next day was more rest while bruises crested in their bloom.

  Days passed, one enough like the other. She’d be fucked somewhere in the Manor, left to rest, taken to the doctor for another scan. The days ran one into the next and she didn’t much care.

  She got into the shower as instructed, became angry and got out again after a couple minutes.

  “What’s the matter with the shower, L?” came over the speaker in the bathroom.

  “The water temperature is fluctuating too much. It keeps going too cold.”

  “Wait on the spot,” she was told in quick but not impatient tones.

  She picked up Chutney to hold close and rub heads together until she heard the clanging of the outer door and her own opened. It closed again.

  “Come to the shower,” the guard said.

  Putting the cat down, she followed into the small room. He held a small gadget with a cup on the end of a sensor.

  “Turn on the water and get in. Start washing as normal and tell me when it feels too cold. Maybe there really is something wrong with the temp sensors on this shower.”

  She turned the knobs to her starting point and got in to stand under the water.

  “This is fine,” she said, and picked up the soap.

  He put the cup into the streams. Water flowed out of holes in the bottom, creating a continuous stream of water over the sensor. He could watch the changes while she said they were happening.

  Suds in her hands, about to wash her arm, the temp dropped.

  “It’s cold now.”

  Three seconds.

  “Now it’s normal again.”

  Arm washed, she freshened the soap in her hands.

  “Cold! Fuck, cold!” she said, and stepped into the far corner of the stall, out of the water.

  “It’s seriously that cold for you?” he asked, looking up from the readout in his hand.

  “Yes.”

  He listened to instructions in his ear.

  “Okay, finish up best you can. Quick as you can,” he told her, and left without making her go to the spot first.

  She rinsed off at once. Barely dried, she was told to go to the spot. The door opened, did not close.

  “The doctor wants to see you.”

  She was taken to the scanner, IV installed and given a dose of the contrast crap. Two minutes later, she was on the slab. The scanner did its thing and she was put into a bed in the next room to rest until the doctor saw her pictures.

  She was there for about half an hour before he came to her. Without a word, he injected something into the IV.

  “I know you don’t like what the drugs do to you, Mally. I respect that. However, several tumors in precarious places are too close to firing. It’s causing you to feel drastic temperature changes when the actual change is only a degree and a half. I’m giving you a full dose of your meds. I’ll keep you here a day or two. We’ll see if removing all your stressors stalls out the tumors and allows them to shrink.”

  “So now I’m a fucking guinea pig,” she blurted.

  “You are my patient,” he replied calmly. “I don’t want you to have a stroke and die just because someone makes you angry.”

&nb
sp; She couldn’t reply, eyes drifting closed as she fell into medically induced slumber. The doctor sent a message to the House Master that L was going to be unavailable for a couple days at least.

  Hank’s first thought was “Again?” but he halted it, reminding himself that forcing her to rest could be a matter of life and death for her.

  Mally woke with no memory of what had happened. She was in a small room, a hospital room, with no call button. The doctor was there within half a minute, though, so she was being watched.

  “How are you feeling today?” he asked.

  “Did I have an episode?”

  “Do you not remember? You had a temperature sensitivity event in the shower. I did a scan, and sedated you to prevent a bad event.”

  She searched her memory, unable to find any of those things.

  “No,” she had to say, still thinking back to find any point of reference.

  “What is the last thing you do recall?” he asked in a more serious manner.

  “Um…I spent the night with Thor after he choked me.”

  The papers in his hand tilted down and he stared hard at her.

  “Nothing after that?”

  “If you told me things that happened, I might be able to find them eventually. But searching my own memory? No, that’s all I got right now. I might remember more as I go about my day. Why? How long has it been?” she asked.

  “Mally.” He halted, eyes clearly saying he was having to process the reality of this. “That was nearly three weeks ago.”

  She drew a breath, accepted the statement, and nodded.

  “Does it not bother you?” he asked, clearly more bothered by the revelation than she was.

  “It used to. Not anymore. It is what it is. I can’t change it. It’s just part of my condition,” she said.

  “I need to do another scan and see if anything has changed.”

  Within a few minutes, she was injected and the scan underway. After, she was allowed to walk the corridor with a guard until he’d finished analyzing the pictures. The House Master came through the airlock, brought her into the office on his own way. The doctor was already waiting for them.